


just take a hold of the hand that breaks the fall

by anemicaxolotl



Series: i can't do this all on my own [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M, Scrubs (TV) References, Slow Burn, i mean not really but kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemicaxolotl/pseuds/anemicaxolotl
Summary: “Jeff, I know last time I came here with an agenda, but this time I’m just here because I like having lunch with you.” He shoots a glance toward Jeff. “You can believe that, right?”Or: Jeff and Abed start watching Scrubs together.
Relationships: Abed Nadir/Jeff Winger
Series: i can't do this all on my own [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119737
Comments: 24
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A purely self-indulgent multi-chapter study of Jeff and Abed watching Scrubs together and *slowly* realizing they are idiots in love, following the fic "My Lunch With Abed". (I'm trying to make it not entirely inaccessible if you've never seen Scrubs lol.)
> 
> Also, Jeff Winger eating disorder struggles abound, so read with caution if that's something upsetting to you.
> 
> Titles of this fic and series come from "Superman" by Lazlo Bane.

Abed doesn’t tell anyone about his lunch with Jeff, or how that afternoon had stretched into a night of reruns until Jeff dozed off on the couch right next to him.

“You’ll be okay?” Abed had asked after shaking him awake, and Jeff had surprised himself by answering honestly.

“I feel like I will be. But I’ll call you if I’m not?”

Abed had smiled lightly, responded with a quick nod and headed out, ignoring Jeff’s offers for a ride home.

That seems like the end of it, so Jeff is surprised to hear a knock on his door three weeks later on another Saturday, right around lunch time.

“Newbie,” he says as he opens the door, and Abed’s eyes light up at the _Scrubs_ reference.

“Are you free for lunch?” he asks, stepping inside without waiting for an answer. “I brought falafel.”

To his dismay, the mere suggestion sets off panic bells in Jeff’s head. He doesn’t eat falafel often, mostly because he doesn’t know how to make it himself, which means there’s no way to even guess the calorie content of a takeout meal. He taps his fingers against the edge of the door and considers a casual _Nah, I’m good,_ maybe an _I ate already._

But it’s Abed, who, for starters, would never buy it. And for another thing, Jeff doesn’t really want to lie to him anymore. Not about this. They’re past that now.

Instead of lying, he asks, “Is that from your dad’s place?”

“Yeah,” Abed says brightly, kicking his shoes off and dropping the bag onto the coffee table. “I stopped by this morning and ended up working for a few hours. He’s kind of accepted the fact that I’m never going to take over the family business but I still like to help him out when I can so he doesn’t get too upset about me crushing his dreams.”

Jeff drifts into the kitchen for napkins and sodas before joining Abed on the couch. Just like last time, Abed unwraps the bag and passes Jeff his food. This time, though, he digs through his bookbag and pulls out a DVD case, which he waves in Jeff’s direction, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I brought the first season of _Scrubs_ on DVD. I thought we could start watching the whole series together from the beginning – you said you haven’t seen it in a while, and I’m due for a rewatch.”

Jeff gestures to the TV in a be-my-guest kind of way, and Abed pops the DVD in before settling back on the couch. He always sits so _weird,_ Jeff realizes, watching Abed tuck one leg beneath him while the other bends so he can rest his foot against Jeff’s coffee table.

Jeff has half a mind to ask Abed if he’s comfortable, sarcastically, but the thing is, he really _does_ look comfortable here – on Jeff’s couch, in Jeff’s apartment. It’s an odd thought that kind of makes Jeff feel…warm, or something, deep in his chest. Like maybe Abed actually wants to be here.

“Hey,” he asks suddenly, “what would you have done today if I wasn’t home when you got here?”

“Called Troy and met him at the park near campus so we could eat this lunch together,” Abed says immediately.

Jeff wrinkles his brow. “Wow, you had that answer all ready to go,” he says, and watches the way Abed shifts in his seat without saying anything.

“Abed, has that happened before?” he asks quickly. “How many times have you stopped by my apartment lately?”

He watches Abed fidget with the tab on his soda can before shrugging and glancing at Jeff. “Every weekend since the first time I stopped by. Only on Saturdays,” he adds quickly. “Today is the first day you were actually home when I got here.”

Even though it’s not his fault, and there’s no way he could have known, Jeff feels like an asshole for keeping Abed waiting for so many weeks, leaving him out in the hallway with a bag in his hand and a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Crap. I’m sorry.”

Abed shrugs again. “Don’t be. I told you, I just meet up with Troy and we eat together instead. In fact he’ll probably be upset you were actually here today because now he’ll have to buy his own lunch.”

He bounces his foot against the table, and Jeff swallows something that’s not quite guilt. “You could just text me, you know. Before you walk all the way over here and waste half your day.”

“If it was an inconvenience to me I wouldn’t do it," Abed says simply. "Besides, I like giving you the mystery of a spontaneous knock at your door in the middle of the afternoon. Keeps things fresh.”

Jeff nods and tries to hide his smile as he turns back to the TV.

He gets so absorbed in the _Scrubs_ pilot episode that he doesn’t even realize Abed has been staring at him until he asks, “Do you not like falafel?”

Jeff startles and glances at his lap, where his food sits, entirely untouched. “Yeah…about that.”

Abed frowns, and Jeff doesn’t want him to think he’s done something wrong, so he quickly adds, “It’s not the falafel itself so much as…what it represents.”

Now Abed looks really confused, narrowing his eyes like he’s puzzling something out. “My heritage?”

“What? No! I meant for me, what it represents for _me,_ Abed.”

It’s hard to explain why Abed’s family falafel recipe, of all things, is going to launch him into a full-on panic spiral. There’s a logic to it, of course, but not one that would make sense to anyone outside of his own brain. Last time with the French fries, in a strange way, it had been easier – those were a clear Bad Food, easy to classify and thus punish accordingly. Jeff doesn’t eat much falafel, and it’s doing a number on his careful classification system.

He thinks it’s mostly made of chickpeas, which should mean Pretty Safe, but it’s _fried,_ which opens up a whole world of dread. Plus, it’s wrapped in a pita, which cancels out the vegetables it’s served with. Extra carbs = Bad. So, _logically,_ that should outweigh the good.

But – and this is a factor Jeff never anticipated – it’s made by hand, with care, by Abed. And that adds a whole new element of consideration Jeff has never had to deal with before. It almost makes it impossible to turn it down.

“This is…not an easy meal for me, Abed,” he finally admits. “I might not actually be able to do it. And I _definitely_ won’t be able to do it if you’re watching me the whole time.”

Abed looks surprised at that, but after a minute he nods. “No worries. I always get really invested in this next episode. It’s called ‘My Mentor’ and it’s the first time we really see JD look to Dr. Cox for support with a patient, while Dr. Cox sets up his pattern of offering contradictory but ultimately meaningful advice.” He takes a bite of his pita and then adds, “Dr. Cox also calls JD 'Radar' in this episode.”

“Huh.”

True to his word, Abed zones in on the episode, doesn’t even glance at Jeff, not even when pointing out bits of trivia or set-ups that will become long-running gags in later episodes. Jeff appreciates it more than he can say.

It turns out eating is a lot easier to do with Abed’s constant commentary running in his ear, when he’s not so focused on the guilt or the morality of what he’s doing and can just appreciate the food for what it is. It also turns out Abed makes some pretty kickass falafel, and Jeff finds himself finishing his meal without the overwhelming wash of guilt he’d been expecting. 

(In the episode, JD desperately tries to get his patient Will to kick his smoking habit, even attempting to recruit Dr. Cox to the cause, only to catch Will smoking a cigarette in the hospital stairwell.

 _“It turns out,”_ Dr. Cox tells JD, _“you can’t save people from themselves, newbie.”)_

“Hey Abed,” Jeff says at the end of the episode, and Abed finally looks over at him.

“I’ve had these…eating issues, or whatever you want to call them, since elementary school,” he confesses. “So…you know.”

At Abed’s blank stare, he sighs and says, “You bringing me lunch isn’t going to magically erase my fucked-up body image, alright? So don’t beat yourself up if you can’t…I don’t know. Fix me, or whatever it is you're trying to do here.”

Abed shrugs, propping his other foot onto the coffee table as he drains his soda. “Jeff, I know last time I came here with an agenda, but this time I’m just here because I like having lunch with you.” He shoots a glance toward Jeff. “You can believe that, right?”

Jeff wants to believe him so, so badly. But there's something that keeps the words stuck just behind his tongue, something that tells him he's not worth Abed's time, that he's a temporary project Abed will grow bored of when he realizes Jeff can't be fixed. 

"I can try," he says instead, and finds that he actually means it, especially when he sees the way it makes Abed smile. 


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Jeff shows up to the study room to find the others already seated, opening their textbooks and absorbed in their own discussions. As he passes Abed’s chair, he drops a hoodie onto his lap as casually as he can. Abed barely reacts, carrying on his debate with Troy as he slides the sweatshirt into his bag.

Jeff takes his seat and tries to ignore the way Britta cuts off her conversation with Annie and starts glancing back and forth between him and Abed.

“What the hell was that?” she asks, loudly, effectively silencing the rest of the conversations in the room.

Jeff risks a glance at Abed, but he’s as unreadable as ever, staring blankly somewhere around the middle of the table.

“I was giving Abed his hoodie,” Jeff says curtly, flipping his textbook open.

“Why did you have Abed’s sweatshirt?” Annie asks, frowning and sitting up straight in that way of hers that means this isn’t a topic that’s going to be easily dropped.

At the end of the table, Pierce snorts. “Yeah,” he adds, “it’s not like it would fit you, Jeff. I mean, look at his skinny little arms.”

Troy and Abed both glance at Abed’s sleeves before Troy sighs. “Pierce is right,” he says with regret.

Jeff can feel heat prickling at the back of his neck as he clicks his pen. “It’s _nothing._ What is wrong with you people? Abed left his sweatshirt somewhere and I was returning it. It’s like you animals have never seen common decency before, sheesh.”

“Well, where did you leave your sweatshirt, Abed?” Shirley asks in a voice of polite indifference, even as she leans forward conspiratorially.

To his credit, Abed just turns a page in his notebook and seems unlikely to respond until Troy snaps his fingers. “Ohhh, wait, is that the hoodie you left at Jeff’s this weekend?”

Abed shoots him a fond but exasperated look as Jeff sinks lower in his seat and what would count for chaos in any other setting breaks out around the table. Here, it’s more of a mild disturbance.

“You went to Winger’s _apartment?”_ Britta cries, as Annie and Shirley gasp, their heads swinging bewilderedly between the two men as Pierce chuckles. “Ha! Winger’s gay and sleeping with Ay-bed!”

Troy turns sheepishly to Abed, who’s already brushing him off with an understanding smile before turning to the rest of the group.

“I was at Jeff’s apartment this weekend to watch _Scrubs,”_ he explains, gesturing vaguely with the pencil he’s twirling between his fingers.

“And, what, you took your hoodie off? Abed, I haven’t seen you wear short sleeves in over a year.” Britta eyes Jeff as she speaks, like she’s looking for something on his face that will give him away.

“Well, he keeps his apartment like a sauna,” Abed mutters, and Jeff sits up, suddenly indignant.

“That’s because you always complain how cold you are!” he protests.

“Yeah, as a hint for you to invest in some throw blankets,” Abed shoots back.

“Oh, what do I look like, a Pottery Barn catalog?”

“No, a Pottery Barn catalog has throw blankets in it because they know how to make it look like someone actually lives there.”

Everyone around the table watches the exchange like it’s a tennis match, their heads whipping back and forth between Jeff and Abed until Jeff finally shuts his mouth and sinks back down into his chair.

Britta is the first to break the silence: “Damn, Abed, how long has this been going on?”

“We’re on season three,” he says simply, as if that explains it.

Jeff rubs his temples and bites out, “Yes, Abed comes over every weekend and we watch a TV show together. He left his hoodie here this weekend and I returned it to him, which I’m realizing now should have been done in private because everyone in this room is incapable of witnessing a normal human interaction without escalating it into something nefarious or salacious. Can someone please tell me what chapter we’re supposed to be studying?”

Shirley and Annie drop their eyes to the books in front of them, shifting in their seats and seeming at least a little bit embarrassed about their outburst. Pierce has already forgotten there was a conversation going on, and Troy is back to whispering quietly to Abed about why Angelina Jolie could play Kickpuncher but Don “The Demon” Donaldson could never play Lara Croft.

Only Britta is still eying Jeff suspiciously, which he pointedly ignores in favor of staring blindly at his textbook, absorbing nothing.

He books it out of the study room when they’re finished, obviously, but it only takes a moment for Abed to catch up to him.

“I told you I could’ve just picked it up this weekend,” he says bluntly, and Jeff sighs.

“Yeah, well, you said it was your favorite and I felt bad,” he admits gruffly. He pretends he doesn’t see the way Abed smiles in surprise.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if that started a whole mess with the group,” he continues. “I hope Troy’s not too jealous or anything.”

Abed frowns. “He already knows we do this every week. Why would he be jealous?”

Now Jeff slows down, eyeing Abed and trying to choose his words carefully. “I would maybe be jealous if someone I was, you know, close to was going to someone’s house every weekend and…”

It takes Abed about half a second to catch on. “You think Troy and I are dating,” he says, pointing vaguely behind him to wherever Troy is in the hallway.

“I mean…” Jeff shoves his hands into his pockets. “Does it matter? He’s got no reason to be jealous either way, right? It’s not like we’re doing anything…you know…”

Abed doesn’t let him off the hook, watching him carefully as Jeff hedges and struggles to find the words to describe what he and Abed aren’t doing on the weekends.

The thing is, he barely knows what they _are_ doing, and so it’s really hard to rule out what isn’t happening. They’re watching _Scrubs,_ which is obvious. They’re eating lunch, which is a miracle. Abed brings him food that seems to cater specifically to whatever absurd rule or compulsion Jeff is fighting at any given time – carbs when he’s compulsively restricting, takeout when he’s obsessively avoiding salt, something hot and homemade and important to Abed when the thought of any food at all makes Jeff want to curl up and hide from the world.

What Abed is doing is taking care of Jeff. What Jeff is doing is enjoying it.

What they’re _not_ doing – what Britta is implying, what everyone else seems to think – is hooking up. No matter how much Jeff wants it, no matter how close Abed sits next to him on the couch, no matter how many times Jeff can feel himself being watched during the course of their Saturdays together, he can’t bring himself to cross that line. This would be different from anything in his past: not a nameless bar hookup and not a rough, adrenaline-fueled handjob with Alan that can be brushed off with the excuse of too much scotch. 

The fact is that whatever Jeff does with Abed needs to be faced in the morning, because Abed isn’t someone he can easily escape from, whether he wants to or not. And he knows that the answer is clearly _not,_ that Abed is never someone he would want to run from. The scary part is slowly letting himself wonder if Abed might feel the same way about him.

It's a feeling too huge and complicated to reckon with now, with Abed watching him with those careful, unshakable eyes, and so for now, Jeff scoffs. “I mean, it’s just two friends hanging out together, right?”

Abed shrugs, his eyes never leaving Jeff’s face. “It’s whatever you want it to be,” he says simply, turning and heading back the way he came to go find Troy.

Jeff watches him leave, feeling oddly deflated, like someone put a target two feet in front of him and he somehow still managed to miss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of food/eating in this chapter (and also, uh...spoilers for Scrubs season 8??)

Jeff continues to mark time that semester in seasons and episodes, new characters and story arc resolutions. As winter break passes and the spring semester begins, patients die and heal while doctors change and grow onscreen at Sacred Heart Hospital. Each episode points forward to the next one, while season after season ties itself up into a tidy bow.

He wonders if this is how Abed always sees the world, predictable and neatly outlined, and realizes he doesn’t hate it. It’s nice to follow along a storyline and have a clear idea where it’s going to end up.

And even as they creep toward the end of season eight, the final season (“Season nine never should’ve been marketed as _Scrubs’_ next season,” Abed insists, “it should’ve been its own spinoff”), Jeff is trying hard not to think about when this is going to end. He lives episode by episode, Saturday by Saturday, staying with Abed in the present and trying not to get too hung up on the frailty of this thing they share. 

That’s why Jeff is so thrown for a loop when he opens his door one Saturday and sees not Abed, but Troy, clutching a takeout bag and grinning sheepishly.

Jeff tilts his head, wondering if he shut the door and opened it again whether it would make Abed appear instead. “Guess that lunch was sort of a one-time thing,” he mutters, almost without realizing what he’s quoting.

Troy frowns in response. “Huh?”

“Nothing.” Jeff opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Troy gingerly steps inside the apartment, kicking his shoes off and then hovering near the doorway, like he’s not exactly sure where he’s allowed to stand. Jeff takes pity on him and nods toward the living room.

“We usually eat over there, in front of the TV,” he says as he heads into the kitchen. “You drink Lemon Fresca, right?”

“Yeah,” Troy says with bright surprise as he sets the bag on the coffee table.

Jeff smirks as he passes Troy a can and takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “Your other half drinks it sometimes, so I started stocking up. It’s…not half bad, actually.” He cracks open the can and takes a sip before adding, “Definitely better than Diet Squirt.”

“But you also buy that now, don’t you?” Troy asks almost casually, untying the knot on the plastic takeout bag instead of looking at Jeff.

Jeff isn’t sure how to read into that. “Well, sure,” he says, and reaches for the remote to flip the TV on.

It doesn’t feel right to watch _Scrubs_ without Abed, so he settles for a _Friends_ rerun and passes Troy the remote as an invitation. Troy shrugs and passes Jeff a Styrofoam container, which Jeff eyes warily until Troy speaks up.

“I just got us salads,” he explains, almost apologetically. He passes Jeff a plastic fork and unwraps his own, his leg bouncing up and down as he continues. “I don’t want to make it sound like Abed talks about you behind your back or anything, ’cause you know that’s not him. But I know you have some, uh…food issues. I mean, I know you don’t do carbs or anything like that at school. Abed told me there’s a little more to it than that, and I didn’t want to freak you out or anything so…”

He trails off, and Jeff flips his lid open warily. It’s a pretty boring salad, but there’s nothing offensive about it – grilled chicken, vinaigrette on the side, no cheese or croutons to send him into a guilt spiral without Abed to coax him out of it. He shoots a grateful look in Troy’s direction.

“I know it’s not very exciting,” Troy mutters as he pours ranch dressing over his own salad.

“It’s actually perfect,” Jeff says, and means it. “Thanks, Troy.”

Troy grins back, and they eat in silence while Troy channel-surfs, flipping indecisively through reruns of _Happy Days, M*A*S*H, Seinfeld_ and _Chopped_ before settling on _Cougar Town._

The elephant was already in the room, and now Jeff can’t help but sigh and put his lunch on the coffee table so he can turn and face Troy fully.

“Alright,” he says in his best lawyer voice. “So when are you going to tell me what’s going on here?”

Troy glances sideways at Jeff before guiltily dropping his gaze to his food. He pops a crouton into his mouth and chews loudly as he shrugs, clearly stalling.

What Troy doesn’t realize is that Jeff’s Saturdays are blocked off solely for Abed TV time, which means he’s got all day. He patiently waits for the chewing to stop, and when Troy finally swallows, he sets his lunch down, too, turning to face Jeff.

“Abed couldn’t make it today.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much,” Jeff bites out, trying to remind himself to rein in the venom just a little. _Troy’s a sweet kid, don’t take it out on him._

Not that he’s _mad_ at Abed, per se. It’s just so unlike him to bail like this, without any warning, and it makes Jeff feel strange and unsettled, wondering if maybe he did something wrong.

“He had…” Troy glances up at Jeff again before shaking his head. “Actually, I’m not going to lie. That’s dumb and you wouldn’t believe me, anyway. Abed was scared to come today, but he didn’t want you to be alone, so he sent me instead. He said these lunches are important and he didn’t want you to feel like he ditched you.”

“But he _did_ ditch me,” Jeff says as his heartbeat kicks up. “Wait, what do you mean he was _scared?”_

“I’m so not qualified to be having this conversation,” Troy mumbles, rubbing his hands over his face.

All of Jeff’s quietly simmering fears from the past few months come bubbling to the surface in a hot rush of panic. “It’s the food thing, isn’t it?” he forces out. “He’s sick of – taking care of me like this, or whatever he’s doing, because he knows I’m never going to fix this and he’s going to be stuck doing this forever, is that it?”

Troy’s eyes widen, almost comically. “What? Jeff, _no._ Did you know he–”

He cuts himself off sharply, tapping his fist against his knee and suddenly glancing around like Jeff’s apartment is the most fascinating place he’s ever seen.

“Troy…” Jeff says warningly.

Troy tries to stall for another minute, but eventually he sighs and turns back. “He’s got a notebook,” he says quietly, “and it’s got pages of notes about you. Like when he was tracking the girls…only this is about you, and food. He’s got lists of different foods to try, takeout places you won’t go to, meals you’ll eat with him and meals you won’t eat in public. And like I said, he doesn’t tell me all the details. But he even had a list of foods he thought you’d eat in front of me today without freaking out.”

Suddenly, Jeff’s mouth goes very dry, and he shakes his head. “I had no idea.”

Troy just smiles and shrugs.

“I still don’t get why he didn’t come today. If he’s not…if he’s okay with, you know…all of this. Why isn’t he here?”

“I told you, he’s scared.”

“Of _what?”_

Troy shakes his head. “I really shouldn’t tell you all of this,” he says quietly. “But, dude…you’re on the last season of _Scrubs.”_

Jeff is well aware of that. It’s been haunting him ever since they started season eight, even more so since JD and Elliot got back together.

(“Our endgame couple,” Abed had said brightly, pointing at the screen. “That’s how you know things are drawing to a close. We’ve been cheering them on for eight seasons and the payout comes just in time to give us emotional closure before it all comes to an end.”)

“He cares about you a lot, Jeff,” Troy continues, “but he has no idea what you guys are doing here, and what’s going to happen when you don’t have a reason to keep meeting every weekend. He says he’s never gotten a straight answer from you, what all of this means.”

He laughs wryly and reaches for his food again. “Honestly, it’s not my place to say what he’s looking for with you – I don’t even know if he knows. I think he’s just waiting for you to make some kind of move – any kind – and he’s afraid you never will.”

Jeff sits back in his seat, frowning and trying to take it all in. “Did he tell you all of this?”

“He’s told me enough,” Troy says simply. “And I know him well enough to read between the lines.”

They both turn back to their salads, Troy clearly satisfied with his pseudo-Winger speech and Jeff quietly stunned at the revelation that Abed’s been waiting for him - that maybe it hasn’t all been in his head after all.

But after a minute Troy sits up and says quickly, “Oh, and Jeff? Abed _really_ didn’t want me to mention any of this to you. So, like…don’t make it weird next time you see him. Okay?”

Jeff just stares at Troy, sitting on the couch in his apartment in the middle of the day on a Saturday with a salad and a Lemon Fresca Jeff keeps stocked solely because it’s Abed’s second favorite beverage of choice, and smirks.

"Right. We wouldn't want things to get weird."

Late that night, far too late to expect a response back, he sends Abed a text.

_Lunch at my place tomorrow?_

He throws his phone in the drawer of his bedside table without waiting for a response, pulls the covers over his head, and tries to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is kind of a lot of filler and set-up for future chapters, but thanks for reading! I'm @ slutabed on tumblr usually hardcore Trobed posting but occasionally championing Jabed from the shadows.


End file.
